Life Unexpected
by Lauren94
Summary: Don't want to give too much away here. But let's face it: nothing ever goes as planned for our favorite pairing. When something unplanned is sprung upon them, how will Derek and Chloe deal?
1. Chapter 1

I'm back and I know. I'm terrible. Not only have I not updated in forever, but I also lied about moving on from Derek and Chloe-but let's face it, can you blame me? Either way, here is the first chapter to what will either be a two-shot or a three-shot. Updates will, unfortunately be sporadic, due to the fact that people aren't lying when they say grade 11 is a whole hell of a lot more stressful than anything I've ever experienced in my academic life.

P.S. Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter of Musings. You guys are, evidently, awesome.

_Life Unexpected_

_CPOV_

I was pacing around the bathroom, trying to breath evenly as I nervously glanced at my watch every few seconds. Realizing that doing so wouldn't make the hands on my watch magically move more quickly, I took a seat on the toilet, folding my upper body forward and placing my head between my knees, breathing slowly and deeply.

I focused on my breaths and let them calm me and slow my heartbeat that had quickened with anxiety. Not strong enough to break my newly acquired habit, I looked at my watch again and saw with a start that five minutes had passed. I jumped up and rushed over to the sink. Taking one last deep breath, I picked up the stick from where it was perched on the counter and stared down at it. The word '_Pregnant'_ greeted me bleakly.

Unsurprised at this point, I sighed and placed it down beside the other two tests that had indicated the same thing, deciding to forgo my denial and accept that I was… pregnant.

If I was being honest, I hadn't been shocked by the positive results of the first test; it had confirmed what I had already suspected. When I had missed my period, I didn't think much of it because I've never been regular. It was when I had started feeling tired and drained, developed an aversion to foods I normally loved, and my jeans had begun to fit a bit more snuggly, that my suspicions had been raised. And this morning, when I woke up nauseous and unable to hold down food, I knew. I knew with a certainty that I couldn't justify yet couldn't ignore.

Nonetheless, I had wanted to be sure, so I had gone to the drug store and bought three tests, apparently under the misconception that if one was positive, the other two wouldn't be. And when I got home, I peed on one of the sticks and watched, practically unblinking, as the pink plus sign slowly appeared. Trying to control my hitched breathing and blinking back tears-of joy or fear, I wasn't sure-I had called Tori-who was in New York on business-and told her the news rather quietly and somberly. She hadn't said much, really, and she couldn't have anyway.

We had talked about this, she knew how I felt.

So, she had said to me softly that everything would be all right and then asked where Derek was. I told her he had left early in the morning, before I had gotten up, to drive to Palo Alto to give a talk at Stanford and wouldn't be back until around eight.

He was excited about today, honoured that, at so young, he had been presented with the privilege to teach a class to peers-granted, there was something about Derek that made him seem older, not just the size. He still wasn't big on talking to people, but he loved to talk _about _complicated theories and science and math endeavors with people who could understand what he was talking about and even maybe ask questions that would challenge his knowledge. I was _not_ going to call him and ruin his day. He'd know something was wrong by the sound of my voice, despite how falsely cheery I'd try to make it, and rush home because there was no way I was telling him over the phone and he'd be too curious and worried to wait until tonight. Then he'd make the five-hour drive anxious and stressed, which wouldn't be good for him if he started to change. No. This could wait until tonight.

Then Tori asked if I wanted to talk about it, which I didn't, so she let me go, telling me to be happy, not to worry too much and to call her when I got the chance.

I proceeded to call Mila-a former Lyle House inmate who was a mix of shaman and witch and was very talented-and made an appointment for tomorrow. And then, I tried to go about my day as normally as possible. I worked on a screenplay I soon wanted to pitch, cleaned the house, and picked up a tray of lasagna from an Italian place Derek and I really liked. The only thing that indicated the presence of abnormality was that I intermittently took pregnancy tests throughout the day. Now, with an hour left before Derek got home, I sat on the stairs, mentally exhausted from same stream of thoughts that had been running through my head all day, incapable of even fathoming doing anything else.

It wasn't that I wasn't happy, because I was. I am. When the results of the first test had shown up, before all the other feeling bombarded me, I was overjoyed, so happy that I was probably glowing. It was amazing to know that I was supporting life, that I was carrying something that was half me, half Derek inside me. And, well, I already loved this baby. Loved it so much that it surprised me.

Ever since I had been fifteen, I had always believed that it would be impossible, that I would be physically incapable, of loving anything or anyone more than Derek because me whole heart was already filled with him. It was, it still is, as if he's a part of me. Now, at twenty-six, I finally realized that I had been wrong. I loved the baby with all my heart, too. It was a completely different kind of love that I felt for Derek, but it was just as encompassing, undoubtedly just as strong. It was as if my heart had expanded to be able to accommodate the place they took up. But the wave of happiness soon washed away, hampered by anxiety and fear, which were now all I felt.

I wanted children. Derek wanted children. But, at the same time, we _still_ took the necessary precautions to assure that it didn't happen because we were worried, scared. Genetic modifications aside, we were two different races of supernaturals and having a child would mean creating a hybrid, a mix of necromancer and werewolf, and we didn't know what type of results that would produce. How would our genes mix? How would our child be? What powers would it have? Would it be okay? We didn't want our baby to face the troubles we had because of powers that couldn't always be controlled. Derek was worried about me, too. He didn't know how I would react to the pregnancy. The werewolf gene is hereditary and he didn't know if I would be able to physically sustain carrying one. And that was a risk he flat-out refused to take.

He wouldn't do anything in which he couldn't predict the outcome. He dealt with numbers and logic and fact, and he wouldn't venture into unknown territory blindsided by the lack of information. So, in his spare time, he ran blood tests and did other sciencey things of the sort that were intended to help him predict how our DNA would mix together while I silently waited and wanted.

Sometimes I wanted to screw caution and get pregnant, but I was never able to fully forget about my reservations for not doing just that.

Alas, life is unexpected and here I was, sitting on the stairs, a pregnant, nervous wreck.

I was worried for the obvious reasons, but I feared Derek's reaction. He would be happy, I knew, but I also knew that all the anxiety and all my concerns would only be exacerbated in his case and I wasn't sure about how he'd want to proceed. I was sure about one thing, though: this baby wasn't going anywhere.

After a few more minutes of mental turmoil, I was jolted back to reality when I heard his car in the driveway. Taking a deep breath, I decided I would tell him right away, knowing I couldn't bear to keep it to myself, letting it weigh me down, any longer. Blinking back what I hoped to be the last of my tears, I waited at my place on the stairs for the door to open. As it did, he began to call my name, but stopped short when he caught sight of me. He rushed to my side, kneeling in front of me and cupping my face gently between his two hands.

"Chloe? What's wrong? What happened?" he asked, attempting to appear calm, though concern and fear laced his voice and filled his gorgeous green eyes.

I looked up at him and, with an attempt at a wry smile, said, quietly, "I'm pregnant."

His eyes widened and I could practically see the gears turning, the thoughts bouncing around in his head. Emotions flitted across his face so quickly I had trouble keeping up until he finally settled into the carefully composed mask he knew I despised with a fiery passion.

"Are you sure?" he asked, worryingly calm.

I resisted the urge to snort and roll my eyes. 'No, I wasn't sure. I just felt like springing this on you and see how you'd react' I felt like saying. But I refrained, holding my tongue. This was Derek. And Derek craved certainty and solid fact. With something this big, he had to be sure he had both. So I simply nodded my head.

"And, all adamancies aside, are you happy about this?" he asked carefully.

He knew how I felt. He knew about my worries-_our_ worries. There wasn't anything left to discuss in that sense because we had already exhausted the subject. _This-_how I felt-was what mattered to him now.

"So happy." I whispered truthfully, not trusting my voice to be capable of anything louder.

He sighed and leaned forward, placing his forehead against mine. Then, without warning, he scooped me up, took my place, and set me down in his lap. He began nuzzling my neck, breathing me in, but I was tense.

He had yet to say anything about how he felt about this, what he was thinking, and his face revealed nothing. His silence was driving me crazy because I didn't know what it meant, how to interpret it. His show of affection could just be a gateway, a way to soften me up before a difficult discussion. As if reading my mind, he finally spoke.

"I hope it's a girl." he murmured.

And there went my composure, flying out the door.

All the stress, worry and happiness all collided and the tears I had been desperately trying to hold back all day finally fell, triggered by his words and what they meant. At least I could blame it on hormones.

I relaxed against him and curled into his chest, relieved at no longer having to carry this around alone. He soothingly ran his fingers down my back and pressed his cheek into my hair. After a minute, I settled down. He pulled away from me and asked, "Why didn't you call me when you found out?" I could see the exasperation in his eyes, but it was far away, simmering.

"I didn't want to ruin your day. I wouldn't have told you over the phone and that alone would have tipped you off. Then you would have insisted on coming home, spending five hours in the car worried and anxious, which, as we know, is not a good combination."

"Chloe…" he growled, "Don't ever keep something like this to yourself _ever_ again. Got it?"

"I told Tori."

"I'm not even going to begin to justify why that is so wrong. Regardless, you know what I mean." he said, rolling his eyes.

I placed my head back on his chest and asked, "You're okay with this?"

He sighed and tightened his grip on me before relaxing, obviously trying to find the right words.

"…Yeah. God, Chlo, I'm so worried. But that's nothing new; I have been since the possibility of having kids first arose. But now that it's here, that it's actually happening, I'm so happy at the same time. As long as you and the baby are monitored carefully, everything should be all right. As for the baby's powers, we'll figure it out in time." he admitted the latter rather reluctantly, hating having to concede with ambiguity.

Derek was my partner in crime, as clichéd as it sounded, my one constant in life. He was the person I always turned to, would always need. His calm, levelheaded approach to this unexpected bump in the road lifted the weight off my shoulders and I was now able to simply enjoy the revelation.

I was going to be a mom-I hoped I would be a good one. And Derek was going to be a dad-God, he would make such a great dad. We were going to be able to give our child everything it would need, everything we hadn't had when we were children. Yes, Derek had Kit, who was nothing short of amazing. But the first five years of Derek's life were spent without him-without anyone-and that had affected him negatively for a while.

Interrupting my reverie, the ever-responsible father to be, said, "We should make an appointment with Emily to get you checked out ASAP."

"Did that this morning." I said smiling.

"Good," he murmured, looking at me intently, green eyes smoldering. I wanted to ask him what he was thinking, but couldn't form coherent sentences for he had started running his fingers through my hair and massaging the back of my neck. I was suddenly swept over with exhaustion, the day's franticness finally catching up. I must have started to doze off because I felt his strong arms lift me up as he began to carry me up the stairs.

Before falling prey to unconsciousness, I heard him quietly say, almost as if only to himself, "I hope she looks just like you."

I wanted to protest, but that desire didn't seem to be sending messages to my brain. So I settled on mumbling something that was intended to resemble an objection because I wanted him to know. To know that, whether it was a boy or a girl, I wanted this baby to have a part of him. Whether it be his dark, shiny hair, strong jaw line, or gorgeous, expressive green eyes. My last conscious thought was of Derek look-alikes before I fell into oblivion.

_DPOV_

As I carried Chloe up the stairs, I pushed all my thoughts aside for the moment and focused on the heartbeats I had just picked up on.

Two. They were _two_ extra heartbeats, perfectly in synch with Chloe's, which is why I probably hadn't picked up on it sooner.

_Twins. _Chloe was carrying twins.

With that realization out in the open, all the thoughts I had carefully been suppressing exploded out of confinement and struggled for dominance.

Laying Chloe on the bed and carrying over the big chair to her bedside, I sat, watching her and attempting to organize my frenzied mind.

I was happy, undoubtedly happy about this. Having children with Chloe was like marrying Chloe-the inevitable next step in our life together. And happiness couldn't even begin to describe what the wolf was feeling. He was yelping in contentment and howling with pride, his natural desire to procreate finally having been satisfied. But happiness and hopes for what will be aside, I was worried and couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding. When she had dropped the bomb, the rush of emotion had almost been too much to handle, but I knew I had to be calm for her sake. Now, I had the time the properly consider what this meant.

I hadn't been prepared for this_-we_ hadn't been prepared for this. Sure, we talked about it and it was general knowledge that we would have children as soon as we could, but it wasn't something I had planned for so soon. And it was something I expected either because Chloe was on the pill. And even though I _knew_ it didn't always work, the fact that it didn't have any guarantees had never truly crossed my mind. And now, I was left to handle all of it at once.

Firstly, my protective instinct was flaring up, suddenly ten times stronger than it usually is-which is saying something. I didn't know how Chloe would react to the pregnancy, which was initially what had gotten it going. But it was also the fact that I no longer felt the vital need to solely protect my mate. There were two others to consider now. Even though, depending on how far along she was, they may yet to be full little humans, it didn't matter. They suddenly were as important to me as Chloe was, meriting my protection for the rest of their lives.

Then, there was their lives to consider. What powers would they have? Would they have any problems controlling them? I didn't want our children to have to struggle or to feel like they didn't belong. The blood tests I had been conducting were inconclusive and had frustratingly revealed nothing. I had absolutely no inkling, not _one iota_ of an idea of how our genes would mix and what the result would be. And it wasn't as if there were any case studies. As far as I knew, this was the first werewolf-necromancer pregnancy. All in all, the lack of clarity, of concrete information that would help build an accurate hypothesis, was maddening.

And finally-perhaps most importantly-there was Chloe.

She was overjoyed by the prospect of being a mother. I could see it in her eyes. Behind the anxiety and the fear, it was there. But she didn't know she was carrying twins. Even physically, Chloe is just _so small. _I had trouble picturing her supporting one child, let alone two. Not to mention, that, if rudimentary chemistry and biology weren't completely disregarded in the combination of our genes, the babies would most likely be bigger than the average, considering who their father is.

Ididn't know how the pregnancy would progress. I didn't know how it would affect Chloe. And that was why my heart was palpitating. That was why it felt as if my heart were constricting, as if circulatory system suddenly wasn't pumping the blood quickly enough. And the worst part was that I knew I couldn't do anything about it.

I couldn't protect her from this; there was only so much I _could_ do, because, at the end of the day, she was the one having these babies, not me. I was helpless, which made me uneasy. Not only would I protect Chloe at all cost, I was naturally, _instinctually_, inclined to do so. Being unable to went against every fiber of my being and I just didn't know what to do.

I felt happy. Weighed down. Drained. I didn't know what feelings to push aside and which to focus on. Deciding that I wanted most to get rid of the uneasiness I couldn't shake, I slipped into bed, Chloe turning towards me as soon as I lay beside her, as if we were magnets with incredible pull. Looking down at her sleeping figure, still marveled by the way we seemed to mold together, I couldn't decide what would be worse: something happening to Chloe or something happening to the babies. Breathing her in-now realizing that her scent was slightly different-I pulled them tighter against me, the physical reassurance serving as a band-aid solution for the anxiety and unease I was sure weren't going away any time soon.

**You know the drill :p Please R&R :)**

***Especially since I'm new to writing Chloe**


	2. Chapter 2

I was very single-minded this weekend. I was determined to update. To any one who's reading and everyone who's, thank you so much. It's extremely appreciated. Anyone who celebrated-or is celebrating-Thanksgiving (because you're from Canada and that's how we roll :p), Happy Thanksgiving! And to anyone else, I hope you enjoyed your weekend.

This is not, I repeat _is not,_ a fluffy Chloe is pregnant and the world is made up of cotton candy and rainbows story. Without further ado, chapter two

Decisions, decisions

I forced myself to loosen my grip on the wheel as Chloe's eyes slid from my face to my hands for what seemed like the hundredth time. Mangling my steering wheel-now indented with the shape of my hands-was not, and would not, ease my tension whatsoever. Chloe's knowing eyes returned to my face, where they had been for the whole car ride, narrowed in concentration as she had first tried to decipher my thoughts and now tried to come up with a plan of action, a way to properly approach the situation. She was humming with nervous energy; I could feel it rolling off of her. But underneath the anxiety, there was something stronger, something I knew all too well after eleven years together: determination. I could see it in the depth of her eyes, in the set of her shoulders.

She was determined to win this. But so was I.

We both knew what was coming. It was just a matter of time before one of us broached the topic and all hell broke loose. I didn't want to fight with Chloe, even though I still had some perverse attraction to it whenever we did. But this fight-no, this clash of opinions-would be different from the rest because it was about something of such serious nature, something we had never fought about before, and we were both set on coming out on top.

Feeling once again like an angst ridden sixteen year old, I, however, did not _truly_ want to win. Every time I thought about what was to come, about what I had to say, my resolve practically crumbled.

I loved our babies, but they had yet to be concrete. Until I actually saw them, I'd have trouble even believing that I was actually going to be a father. The idea wasn't any less real, just more abstract. Whereas Chloe _was_ real. She was alive and breathing and well. And she was mine.

My life. My everything.

And then I would remember Emily's words, her prognosis, and my resolve would once again strengthen, for I refused to risk losing all I had.

My hands reflexively tightened on the wheel. I had been holding this in for an hour, wanting to have this discussion at home, but I would soon burst. I heard Chloe take a deep breath, as if preparing herself to take the plunge.

"What should we name them?" she asked quietly, trying to keep her face and tone calm and collected.

I closed my eyes tightly for a moment, searching for the strength it would take to say it. I kept my voice low and even, wanting to convey my seriousness and needing to remain composed.

"Chloe. We're not keeping them." I looked over at her, gauging her reaction. To my surprise, she didn't look too taken aback-she had probably been expecting this from me. Her eyes widened in disbelief for a second though, before she quickly reined it in.

"You don't mean that." she said confidently, shaking her head for emphasis. "We're keeping these babies, whether you're scared or not."

And something in me just broke. I pulled over to the side of the road, thankful that we were on a lonely stretch of two-lane highway. I had momentarily forgotten her complete disregard for her own well-being and I was about to remind her that that was all I cared about at the moment. She had no right to call me scared. Undoubtedly, I was terrified-as she _should_ be-but that wasn't the focal point, the most important thing to have in mind. She was missing the big picture.

"Chloe," I said, turning my body to face her directly, "this point is not debatable. We're not keeping them and that's that."

She turned towards me, eyes alight with fury. "Derek Souza. You have _absolutely no _right to tell me what _we_ are and aren't doing. _Especially_ when what you want is a lie."

I was getting worked up for she was refusing to understand where I was coming from, to see the unfailing logic behind my argument.

I hit the steering wheel, needing to release the pent up tension and fear and anger. "Damn it, Chloe! Did you not _hear_ what Emily said? Weren't you listening? How could I even _manage_ to raise two children with you dead? What would _I __do_ with you _gone_?" My voice rose with every passing second and my breathing had become slightly heavier.

Her eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and tenderness before she pushed it away. Her expression hardened and, without warning, she jumped out of the car, walking over to my side and opening the door, letting fresh air into the suddenly stifling confines.

She reached for me with one hand to cup the side of my face. I fixed my jaw; I _did not _lean into her touch. I would not. She sighed.

"I heard her. Apparently with more accuracy than you. Fifty percent. That's what she said. There's a fifty percent chance that things will go smoothly and a fifty percent chance that something could go wrong. _Something. _She never said there was a chance I would die. Just a chance that everything wouldn't be perfect." If we had been talking about anything other than this, I would have rolled my eyes at the petty distinction she was attempting to make. I fixed her with a look, one that said, _you cannot minimize the gravity of the situation._

"It was implied."

"Nothing may even go wrong." she tried to reason.

"That's not a risk I'm willing to take." I said with finality. She stiffened and slowly removed her hand from where it rested so it hung at her side.

And in that moment, my heart broke. Chloe looked so vulnerable, so helpless. She didn't know what else to say, what else she could do, and she had realized it. Her eyes, which had been locked with mine, had slowly gone from being filled with earnest and hope to being filled with pleading. She was begging me with her eyes to let her keep these babies and it was so frustrating, so distressing, because having a child was so _normal_, but we had to worry about it, had to sacrifice it, because we _weren't. _

I reached for her, wanting to convey that this wasn't about what we wanted, because we wanted the same thing, but about what had to be done because there wasn't any other way. She climbed onto my lap, understanding, and molded herself to fit. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding and immediately felt calmer, soothed. Still, after all these years, proximity with her made me feel safer. My arms snaked around her waist and I quietly said, "I can't lose you. I won't."

Surprisingly, considering our luck, I had never come _that_ close to losing Chloe. There had never been a time where she was on death's door or there was distinct possibility that I might not be able to save her from whatever trouble she had gotten herself into. But every time I thought I was close to losing her, or thought I had, the heart-stopping fear was never far behind.

Emily hadn't told us anything we didn't already know except that Chloe's pregnancy was likely to progress more quickly than average. But when she dropped the bomb, when she uncomfortably and quietly revealed Chloe's chance of survival-as l liked to refer to it-that same feeling, only this time, exacerbated, came back. My heart had begun to beat rapidly, almost drowning out all other noise, and I could have sworn time had stood still for a moment or two. Chloe had stiffened slightly and Emily had continued to speak, explaining her prognosis. And although I heard her, I couldn't consciously process her words. She had presented us with a fact and that fact had expanded and took up all the space in my mind. The words 'fifty percent' were like a mantra in my head.

She pulled back to place her forehead on mine.

"I don't want to lose you either, Derek. I can't. But I can't lose these babies either. Please. Don't make me choose." This last was said so fervently, so desperately, that I knew I couldn't make her do what I wanted. I didn't even want what I wanted. I didn't want to give up the babies. If it were to actually happen, to come to that, I wouldn't even be able to go through with it. I was just too scared to face the alternative.

Chloe must have sensed her victory because she placed her head back on my chest and murmured, "It'll all be alright."

I didn't nod or murmur any form of agreement because I didn't want to invest in what might be false hope. I simply held her more closely, enjoying the false sense of securtiy. After a while, she said, "I like the name Jake."

"I like Maggie."

She smiled brightly and kissed me. After a while of _that, _she scooted back over to her side of the car and we continued on our way home. Sliding a look my way, she raised her eyebrow and inclined her head towards the steering wheel. "You need to fix that."

I smiled and rolled my eyes, not wanting to damper the mood, but too anxious and preoccupied for much else. The next four months would probably simultaneously be the best and worst of my life and I didn't know how to begin to deal with it.

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